The Caretaker
by aelitaheiderich
Summary: Can Agent Aaron Hotchner solve his own kidnapping?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is an evil plot bunny that took over my life until I sat down to write it. Now that I have written it, I hope I'll get some peace, but plot bunnies are evil little beasties. Anyway, if you like, please read and review!_

An Unusual Case

Chapter 1

Aaron Hotchner stared down at the case file in front of him, his brow knotted in thought. JJ was right about it being an unusual case. The only case he could remember that came close to it was the case with the 911 operator trying to save kids from their parents, but this was...unusual. If an unsub kidnapped an adult, it was usually for some purpose. This case...hmm.

Sighing, he got to his feet and left his office to brief the rest of his team, already gathered in the conference room. There was JJ, Rossi, Spencer, Garcia, Derek, and Emily. Spencer's nose was buried in the file, Garcia was chatting with Derek, and Rossi and JJ were deep in a discussion. Hotch cleared his throat as he entered and he was immediately the focus of everyone's attention.

"Needless to say, we'll be taking this case," he said as an opening. "It's...unusual."

"In the extreme," Reid agreed. "Basically, this kidnapper is kidnapping people just to...kidnap them."

"So far there have been three victims. They've all been held approximately three months and then released, and after a period of a week, the unsub takes his next victim. So far, none of the victims have even seen the man's face since wears a mask. All of the victims described a man with the same build and voice, and they've all described the same room where they were kept. Since the last victim has just been released and the police waited a bit before calling us, we have at most five days before he takes his next victim."

"All of the victims taken were low-risk," Derek said, turning pages in the file. "The first one was a martial-arts instructor and volunteer for the local youth program, the next, a Marine sergeant home for a few weeks' leave, and this last, she was a gym instructor and triathlon participant as well as a hospital volunteer. All of them healthy, able to fight back, and all of them with good situational awareness. These people would not have been easy to abduct."

"Interesting," Garcia said, looking over the witness statements. "Is it normal for kidnappers to...I don't know...take care of their victims like this one does?"

"That's part of what makes this case so strange," Rossi admitted. "It's like he took them just to take care of them."

"Brand-new clothes, nicely-furnished room, home-cooked meals, access to workout equipment, an entertainment center, books and magazines...the unsub did everything but take his victims outside," JJ concluded.

Reid blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The whole case is strange. When an unsub abducts an individual, that individual is taken with a purpose in mind. Whenever one of the victims asked their abductor why they were taken, he only answered with a 'why not?'"

"That's Weird Central in Weirdsville," Garcia commented.

"That's not an understatement, baby girl," Morgan told her.

"Right," Hotch said, drawing their attention back. "Pacerton PD has called us in. It's a small town of about ten thousand in Kansas. In their history, there has never been a string of kidnappings like this. Word has gotten out to the press and the town is in an uproar. People are demanding that the police do something, and we're that something. We have five days to figure out this man's game, prevent him from taking another victim, and apprehend him. Wheels up in thirty."

* * *

The plane ride was passed in going over the case files and trying-in vain-to come up with some theory.

"If I were to really reach, I would say that it's an extreme case of Lima Syndrome," Reid said, flipping through the case files one more time.

Garcia was listening through the video feed. " _Is that like Stockholm Syndrome?_ "

"Sort of," he admitted. "It's where a captor comes to care for the captive, rather than the other way around. They start to have doubts that what they're doing is right, so they start to take care of the captive. This usnub, though, doesn't fit that model. He takes someone, holds them for a period of time while providing all the comforts of home, and then lets them go. There's no mention of sexual exploitation, mental torture, requests for ransom...it's like his whole motivation for kidnapping is just to take care of someone."

" _And how often does that happen?_ "

"Intimacy-seeking stalkers will care for their victims when they devolve to kidnapping, and other expressive kidnappers have a purpose in taking their victim…" He paused and looked at the screen. "Almost all of them are bad, but this unsub doesn't seem to have any of those purposes in mind when he takes someone."

Once again, Garcia had the perfect word. " _Weird._ "

Reid nodded. "Yep."

"J.J., how do you think it would be best to approach the media in this case?" Hotch asked.

"If the town's in an uproar, the best approach would be to show a calm facade," J.J. answered. "Calling us in shows that the police is doing something, and if we're calm, then hopefully, everyone else will be. We can offer the usual precautions and so forth, and underneath that calm we'll be working frantically."

"Like always," Derek added. "I'm really interested in finding out more about this unsub. I mean, have any of you heard of something like this?"

"There was that guy who was rescuing kids from unfit parents, and then that one woman who wanted to be appreciated…" Emily said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but this guy is... _out there_." Morgan looked through the file again and shook his head. "Seems like some weird reverse-dependent personality."

"Or something…" Hotch said thoughtfully. "Let's wait until we talk to the victims before we make any conclusions. It may be that one of them can tell us something that will give us answers."

* * *

Talking to the victim was interesting. They were all a little tense at being interviewed and all of them were adamant that their captor had not harmed them.

The first victim Hotchner and Rossi spoke to was the martial arts instructor, Gerald Blake. The rest of the team listened in on the interview. He was in his forties, and had a kind yet kick-ass no-nonsense demeanor. He described his kidnapper as "weird, but all-around, a nice guy. Good cook. Fun to talk to. He'd play word games with me. Never threatened me, never got violent."

"Not once?" Hotch asked, surprised. "Say, when you mentioned leaving?"

"Nope, not even then," Gerald told him. "He said he knew that I wanted to go home and he promised I would when our time was up. He actually had a list of things I could do to get time taken off."

Eyebrows rose all around the room. "Would you feel comfortable sharing some of those?" Rossi asked in the following silence.

"Nothing bad," Gerald said. "Sit down and share a meal with him, and he took off a day. Sit down and play a game, the same. A game of 20 Questions about me got me two days off."

Hotch checked the number of days Gerald had been held. That sounded about right. "Okay. What about where he kept you? Can you tell us anything about that?"

"Big room. Screens divided it up into a living area, dining area, workout area, and bedroom. The bathroom was a separate room, but it was as nice as the rest of the place. Nice furniture. Decor was okay, but a little boring. There were cameras, though, so I always changed in the bathroom. That was the only place without one. The cameras were creepy, but I learned to ignore them after a while. I'm thinking they were his way of keeping an eye on me and making sure I was okay."

JJ and Emily exchanged looks. That was...super-creepy.

"What did you spend your time doing?" Rossi asked.

"It was boring, at first. There was an entertainment center, so I watched TV a lot. Later, I started picking up books, and of course, I spent some time everyday on the treadmill and lifting weights. Dinky little hand weights didn't do much, but they were better than nothing."

A captor giving their captive a possible weapon and trusting them not to use it? Hotchner jotted that down.

"You said that he brought you meals," Rossi said. "How did he do that?"

"There was a slot in the wall next to the table," Gerald explained. "He'd slide trays through there for me. Later, when he sat down to share a meal with me, he came inside. One of the rules was that I couldn't try to see his face. I don't know how he made his half of the table dark, but I couldn't see him, even though he was a few feet from me. It was weird, but as long as it got me time off, I wasn't going to complain."

"Did he ever force you to do something that you didn't want to do?"

Gerald shook his head. "Nah. If he wanted me to do something, he'd suggest it, and if I didn't do it, he didn't say anything else about it. It was always something like, 'Why don't you go to bed now, Gerald?' or 'I think it would be a good idea if you took a break.' Things like that."

"That's it?" Rossi asked.

"That's it."

"And when he took you, how did he accomplish that?" Hotch asked, looking concerned.

"Honestly, I have no idea. One second I was heading to the car after locking up the dojo, and the next, I was waking up in that room and he was telling me not to be afraid. He said that a lot during the first couple of weeks. Didn't want me to be scared of him. At first, I was just pissed, but then I calmed down, but I wasn't really scared. Worried, yeah, but not scared."

They didn't learn much else from the other two victims. They all described the same setup, the same rules, and everything else Gerald had mentioned. The female victim did state that whenever their captor couldn't make the room dark, he wore a ski mask, but he was never close enough for her to tell what color his eyes were. All of them described a tall, broad-shouldered man with a deep voice, dressed in jeans, work boots, sweatshirt, and a ski mask.

"Did he ever leave you alone, for any length of time?" Hotch asked her. He'd asked the same question of the two men and both had said yes, for hours five days a week, but the length of time often varied. There had been no pattern either of them had been able to discern.

Hotch wasn't surprised when she said the same thing. The unsub had been in complete control all the time.

* * *

It was past midnight when they decided to stop going over files and head to their hotel. Reid stumbled on his way out the door and Hotch caught him by the elbow to keep him from tumbling down the steps to their car. JJ was carrying too many files so Hotch took some. Once at the hotel, they all gathered in Hotch's room to have one last re-hash so they could wind down enough to sleep. They shared their impressions, offered their theories and conclusions, and made a battle plan for tomorrow.

"I am not looking forward to the press release tomorrow," JJ said.

"We may have bupkis on figuring out who this guy is, but at least it's interesting bupkis," Rossi opined, leaning back in his chair.

"Sooner or later, there's got to be a break in the case. His victimology is pretty consistent: strong, care-taker types with a lot of responsibility and stress in their work. Police have increased their patrols and once we speak to the press tomorrow, there'll be public awareness for him to worry about. It won't be so easy for him to take someone by surprise. Next time he tries to take someone, somebody will notice something and we'll get our break."

"From your mouth to God's ears," Emily said, trying to stifle a yawn. "I vote we get some rest before we all fall asleep where we are."

A snore answered her. All of the team turned around to stare at Reid, who had taken a seat on the floor to lean against the foot of the bed. He was out like the proverbial light.

"Awww," Emily breathed. "Quick, somebody take a picture and send it to Garcia!"

Reid didn't wake up until after the camera flashed. He never did find out why his teammates all started laughing when he asked if it was time to go to bed.

* * *

The next day was just as hard as they were expecting. The public were not happy to hear that the BAU was not this superhuman force that had already managed to catch the bad guy. All day long phones were ringing with people demanding that somebody do something about this nutjob prowling the streets. What Aaron really wanted was a concrete profile to offer them, but so far, it was still too fluid. When the time came to offer a preliminary profile, he could tell that no one was happy.

Hotch took a deep breath and started. "This is a man who likes to be in complete control of another person, down to where they sleep, what they eat, and what they spend their time doing. This man is patient, meticulous, and is seeking to build a relationship with each of his victims in which he is the caretaker and can control their environment down to the smallest detail. He tends to gravitate toward individuals who undergo a lot of stress and responsibility in their work. He enjoys the challenge of subduing powerful individuals, even though he has an imposing physical build. Despite his build, he is not a threatening individual. It is likely he can approach almost anyone and immediately begin to build trust with a victim. He is not feared, rather; people seem to trust him as a matter of course. Look for someone who works in a position of authority-police, firefighter, public official, an educator, or doctor. With the added public attention on the case, it will not be long before someone notices something."

An officer immediately raised a hand. "So, basically, you're telling us most of what we already know, but you want us to look at our own force and so on? How do you know he's in a position of authority?"

"This is someone who thrives on caring for someone else. It is likely that he enjoys that role and finds that his time doing his job no longer meets his need for caretaking. It's not likely he has a family on which to expend that need and he feels the only way to meet it is to abduct strangers who, he feels, deserve some care," Hotch elaborated. "Finding him will not be easy. Due to his meticulous nature, he will have covered his tracks. None of the victims noticed someone paying attention to them or following them prior to their abduction, and they all had high situational-awareness, so he is good at blending in and being unnoticed. This ability to hide in plain sight will make him that much more difficult to find."

One officer muttered something under his breath. Hotch didn't catch what he said, but he agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly.

* * *

That was another long day. The thing that really surprised all of them was when the female victim came to the station to show them something.

"It's my birthday today," she told them, placing a box on the table in their temporary headquarters. "When I opened my door this morning, I found this."

They examined the contents of the box. Inside was a brightly wrapped gift and birthday card in an envelope. The police examined the items thoroughly and found nothing dangerous. In the envelope was a card covered with pink roses and the words "Happy Birthday!" in curly writing. Inside the card there was no little poem about birthdays, but there was a handwritten message. _Happy Birthday, Sherry. Our time together was short, but I will cherish it always. I am always thinking of you and hoping you are happy. Your Caretaker._ At a detective's request, Sherry opened the gift and inside it was a leather-bound journal.

She smiled when she saw it. "I told him I like to write."

A kidnapper who sent gifts for a victim's birthday. That was definitely a first in Hotch's career. The police promised to increase patrols at Sherry's house until the man was caught and she went home, reassured.

No one on his team was reassured. If anything, the gift raised more questions. They kept the card to run some handwriting analysis and possibly look for any matches in their databases, but Hotch already knew they wouldn't find anything. The man was too careful to come to the attention of the authorities before now.

He looked around the conference room at his team. Morgan was squinting at their files, looking for a pattern. JJ was looking over all the media coverage. Emily was helping Derek with the files, and Rossi was examining a map. Reid was passed out in a chair. He'd been going hard all day and not even all the coffee he'd drunk had been able to keep him awake. Silently, Hotch picked up Reid's jacket and covered the sleeping agent with it.

Rossi looked up and smiled. "Awww. Poor kid's all tuckered out."

Hotch looked Reid over. "You know, this late and in this lighting, he looks a little like Jack does when he's asleep."

"So, spread out like a starfish?" Emily asked.

JJ stifled a chuckle. "Sounds about right."

Reid shifted in his chair and let out a little snore, but he didn't wake up.

"Dinner was six hours ago," Hotch said, feeling his stomach complain. "Did all of you want to press on, or should we call it a night?"

"Do you really think that if we quit now we'd make it to the hotel?" Rossi asked. "We've got the whole town watching us like hawks. Like angry hawks. Someone should explain to them that Rome wasn't built in a day."

"I doubt they'd listen. I vote that we press on until we all end up like Reid."

"For that we'll need more than just police coffee and vending machine food," Hotch sighed. "I'll go get us some provisions and when I get back we can get back to work. Maybe with some food we'll all perk up."

"Espresso would be best," Rossi advised. "Want some help?"

"Nah, won't take long," Hotch said, firmly quashing the desire to yawn. "Be back in a few."

Hotch left the station and headed down the street to the all-night restaurant that catered to the station. When he was gone a half-hour, his team were starting to wonder just how long he was going to take. At forty-five minutes, they started ringing his phone and went in search of him. They found his phone behind a trash can in an alley, but there was no sign of Hotch.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Nobody took it well when Hotch disappeared. Not the Pacerton PD and not Quantico. The people who took it the worst were Hotch's team. All of them were ready to kill a person they'd never met for daring to abduct their boss.

"What I can't understand is how someone got the drop on Hotch," Reid said as they all stood at the crime scene in the dark hours of the morning.

"It's late, and we're all tired," Morgan said, staring at his boss's now-battered phone. It was tucked into an evidence bag, dinged, scratched, and cracked. "Hotch would've been tired, too. Still, you're right, Reid. It would've been hard for someone to subdue Hotch. I'm interested in knowing how he did it."

"There's no surveillance cameras," JJ said thoughtfully, looking around. "And no one in the restaurant noticed anything. He didn't even make it inside to pick up anything before the unsub snagged him."

"So it was quick," Emily said. "This unsub had less than the ten minutes it would have taken Hotch to walk from the station to the restaurant to snag him."

"Not to mention secure him for the trip," Rossi added. "He had to have a car, one easy to get in and out of and to stow someone."

"He had to have some way to incapacitate him," Morgan continued. "Something that would subdue him quickly so he could complete the snatch and go. A taser, perhaps, or some kind of drug."

Reid suddenly went pale and scurried away, pausing only to vomit down a storm drain. JJ went to his side and waited until he was finished. Once he stood up, she handed him some Kleenex and settled him on a bench outside the restaurant. He was white and shaky and one leg was jerking up and down. JJ went inside the restaurant and came back with sodas for everyone, saying that sugar was good for the shaky feeling they all had to be feeling at that point.

Reid swished some soda around in his mouth and spit it out. "Sorry about that," he said weakly. "It was just the thought of Hotch, tased or drugged or…"

Morgan walked over and clapped a hand on Reid's shoulder. "Sorry, pretty boy. Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," Reid said, still sounding wrung out. "I mean, the better job we do here, the better chance we have of finding Hotch."

While the scene was processed, Garcia called. Her voice had that quiet, determined, and frightened quality it got when she was worried beyond bearing for someone, but she put on a calm and professional front, promising to look out for any suspicious anythings on anything at all. In short, she was going to to be a one-woman virtual people-finder and rescuer. Morgan thanked her and let her get on with it before rejoining the rest of his team.

"Knowing Hotch, he was probably planning the food order ahead of time so he could get in and out of the restaurant in the least amount of time," Rossi said, moving up the street and walking back to the alley crossing where they'd found Hotch's phone. "He was glancing from left to right and right to left, scanning the area, keeping his eyes peeled. This has been a hard case, the unsub could be anywhere, so he was on alert."

"He doesn't make it to the restaurant," Emily said, picking up the thread. "Something draws him into that alley. He pulls out his phone to...probably contact us. Either he thinks he's found the unsub or something's made him suspicious or thinks someone needs help, because he pulls out his phone, but before he can make the call, it's knocked from his hand."

"The screen is cracked," Morgan added, picking up. "It had to be hit with a lot of force due to how many cracks there are. Unsub knocks it out of his hand and before Hotch is able to do anything, the unsub incapacitates him."

"And gets him to the car," Rossi continued. "Nobody we spoke to in the restaurant remembered a car being parked at the front of this alley, so it had to be at the other end."

They went carefully, examining the ground for any clues. It was difficult with just the aid from their flashlights, but they did pause to tape off the opposite end of the alley. They found tire tracks with the help of all their flashlights and called for someone to process them. Reid was scanning the area while the techs were at work and he froze. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Morgan asked, fighting off a yawn.

Reid pulled on some gloves, crouched down next to the corner of a building on the right, and rummaged in some rubbish. Seconds later, he pulled out a wallet. "It's Hotch's!"

Inside the wallet were Hotch's license, voter's registration, health insurance card, forty-five dollars in fives and forty-three cents in coins, and pass cards to his favorite stores. Two things were missing: the picture of Jack that he kept in his wallet, and a group picture he and his team had taken several months ago.

"I don't like the fact that this unsub knows what Jack looks like," Rossi said after several horrified moments of silence.

"And he knows what we look like, too," JJ said thoughtfully. "Taking our picture I can understand since he needs to know what we look like so he can avoid us, but why did he take Jack's?"

"It was a kindness," Reid said quietly, his throat tight. "Think about it. This unsub takes people and is kind to them. The other victims didn't have any photos on them. None of them had kids, and none of them carried photos of their friends since they weren't particularly close. All of them were independent, face-the-world alone types. Us working together like we do has made us a family. This guy probably thought Hotch would want to have a photo of Jack and his family, so he took them when they were available."

"That makes a scary kind of sense," Emily sighed. "I really hope that this guy is just as nice to Hotch as he was to the rest of his victims, 'cause if he's not…"

"He'll have a lot more to worry about real soon," Morgan finished. "C'mon, guys. Let's get back to work."

* * *

Their handler for the Pacerton PD found them several hours later, near lunchtime, in the conference room they'd made their home base. Only Rossi was still awake, and his eyes looked like burned-out holes in his head. He was rubbing his forehead and examining photos of the alley.

"You'll have to sleep sometime," Rossi heard a quiet voice say, making him jerk.

"Hello, Officer Thomas," Rossi said, putting the photographs down. "I know I have to sleep, I just don't have the energy for that type of effort right now. Besides, I can never just lie down and take a nap. I'm jealous of those who can, but I lack that particular talent."

Officer Thomas nodded. "I know what you mean. We had a missing kid case last year and all of us were working not just overtime, but over-overtime. Some guys would bunk down in the cells, others at their desks or in this room, but I always had to go home to sleep. Made me feel as if I were slacking off, but that was the only way I could sleep."

Rossi gave a mirthless chuckle. "I'm sure you weren't slacking off. Did the case have a good ending?"

"Fortunately, yeah," Officer Thomas confessed. "Any of us not on duty promptly went out and celebrated once the kid was home."

Rossi looked around at his sleeping teammates. "I'm sure we'll be doing some celebrating once we find Agent Hotchner. Has any new information come in on the tipline?"

"That's what I was coming to tell you," Thomas said, pulling an audio recorder out of his pocket. "There were two calls. One was from a lady walking home last night. She heard someone shouting somewhere, but she couldn't locate him. The second, well...your team might want to hear it."

Rossi woke them all up, relayed the news, and in seconds everyone had rubbed the sleep from their eyes.

"This first clip is from a woman who called," Officer Thomas explained the situation in a few words and why she'd called in. "I think it's interesting."

" _Pacerton PD tipline."_

" _Hi. Listen, I heard about this guy who's been snatching people...I don't know if what I can tell you will help or not."_

" _Any information at all helps, ma'am. How about you tell me?"_

" _Okay. I was heading home last night. Near the all-night diner, Jimmy's. I'd passed it and was maybe a block or two away when I heard shouting. It was a guy calling for help."_

" _What did he say, ma'am? Can you remember?"_

" _Something like, 'No, let go of me, I don't want to go with you,' and a few other things like that. I headed back, thinking it was weird for a guy to be calling for help like that, but I couldn't see or hear anybody once I got closer, so I figured maybe I'd heard a TV or argument, you know? Then, this morning, I see the news and get to wondering if what I'd heard last night might have been something to do with this guy taking people, so I called."_

The conversation continued as the operator asked questions to elicit more detail, but the witness had not been able to offer much. She had given her name and contact information, and Morgan wrote it down so they could visit her later.

"You said there were two clips you wanted us to hear," Rossi said thoughtfully after a minute or two.

"Yeah, this next one...I don't know. The voice was run through a distorter. Just listen."

" _Pacerton PD tipline."_

" _I'm calling regarding Aaron Hotchner."_

The press did not know that one of the FBI profiling team had been taken. The home office had been insistent that the press not know until absolutely necessary. Even Strauss had said that the last thing this unsub needed was any confirmation or recognition for managing to abduct an FBI agent. None of Hotch's team liked hearing that, but they could see the sense of it. The fact that this guy used Hotch's name let them know for certain that this was the unsub calling.

" _Yes, sir?"_

" _Please let his team know that he's all right. He'll come to no harm at my hands."_

" _Can you tell me where you're calling from, sir?"_

Emily found herself impressed with that operator. She was unflappably calm, which was an asset in law enforcement.

" _No. I can tell you that Agent Hotchner is fine. He's resting now. He'll be fine. Tell his team not to worry. They'll see him again. I can promise that. He'll be well cared-for."_

With that, the line went dead.

"Did you manage to get a trace?"

Officer Thomas shook his head. "No, there wasn't enough time. Do you think your people could manage it?"

"I'll call Garcia and tell her what's up," Morgan said, whipping out his phone. "If we're lucky, baby girl can work her magic and find us a lead."

* * *

Waking up was difficult. He could hear things from what seemed like a long way away, and he could feel things, but only at one remove. He willed his body to get up, to fight, to run, but he couldn't even get his fingers to flex. Why did he feel the need to fight? If he was in bed, then there was no reason to fight. Was he in bed? He had to be; he was lying down. But why was he lying down? He didn't remember going to bed.

From a distance, he heard someone say, "Aaron, can you open your eyes?"

His eyes opened and closed again almost immediately, but he'd managed it. The only thing he really saw was light with no detail.

"Good."

What was good?

"You're going to be all right. It will wear off soon and you'll feel better."

Wait, what? What was this person telling him? What needed to wear off? Was he in the hospital? Was that what had happened? But that didn't make sense. He was supposed to be...with his team. He and his team had been investigating a case...he couldn't remember which one. He was lying down somewhere quiet, his head hurt, his throat was dry, and he was boiling hot. What the hell was wrong with him?

He didn't expect what happened next. Someone moved around him and then began untying his shoes. They were slipped off, as were his socks. His suit jacket was removed, along with his tie, his shirt, his belt, and his pants. All that was covering him were his T-shirt and his boxers. Fear was driving him a little faster toward consciousness, because a bad feeling had settled in. Why was this person undressing him? Details from all the cases he'd worked over the years rushed back to him and all his fight or flight instincts rushed in. With a Herculean effort he got his eyes open and used his hands to push the man away.

He didn't budge.

"Hey, it's all right," Aaron heard as his body went slack and his eyes closed again. "Sorry to undress you like this, but your clothes are soaked with sweat. I figured you'd be more comfortable like this. Don't worry. I won't hurt you. I'm going to take care of you. You don't have to be afraid."

For some reason, that sounded familiar. It seemed he'd used up all his strength in that one move to defend himself, because he couldn't move or open his eyes again. The man turned Aaron on his side into the classic recovery position and covered him with a light blanket. He heard the man settling into a chair next to his bed and then he felt a hand take hold of his.

"You don't need to be afraid, Aaron. I can promise I won't hurt you. I didn't hurt the other people I took, and you've spoken to all of them, so don't worry, okay? You'll rest for right now, and later, once the last of this wears off, you'll feel a million times better and we can talk. I'll answer your questions Please don't be afraid."

Having someone holding his hand when he was a grown man was super-creepy, but there wasn't much he could do about it. He could feel himself falling back to sleep. His body relaxed and just as he fell deep into slumber he felt a hand smooth his hair.

* * *

He woke up again with a headache and a raging thirst. Slowly, the ability to move crept its way back into his limbs and soon he was flexing his hands and feet, trying to wake up fully. Inch by inch he fought to wake himself up, and finally, at long last, he was able to open his eyes and rise up on one elbow. Where the hell was he?

It was a bedroom, done in blue. Well, sort of. The bed sheets, comforter, and rag rugs on the floor were blue, as was the one easy chair. Screens closed the room off, giving the illusion of privacy even if there was none. He craned his neck and past the screens he could see the corner of a table, and on that table was a bottle of water.

Still feeling shaky, Aaron got to his feet and made an unsteady beeline for the water. He thanked all benevolent spirits watching over him that he was still coordinated enough to open it and he took a few sips, mindful of the fact that drinking anything too fast could make him sick. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat down, focusing on breathing and sipping water. He rested his forehead on his hand and sipped, trying to marshal his thoughts.

"Aaron?"

Hotch jumped and nearly spilled the bottle. He turned just far enough to see...to see…

 _Don't panic,_ he told himself sternly. _Do NOT panic._

"I'm glad you're awake," the tall silhouette beyond the fencing told him. "How do you feel?"

He couldn't stop himself; the words slipped out on their own. "Physically or mentally?"

"Let's focus on the physical for right now."

It was a pleasant and kind voice. It was the type of voice that made you want to trust the speaker. "I have a headache, I'm very thirsty, I'm stiff all over, and I feel a bit out of it. What did you give me?"

"Propofol."

Aaron winced. It was a widely-used sedative, but still..! "How did you know how much to give me?"

"I'm good at what I do. Do you feel nauseous?"

"Nope, just loopy." Loopy. What a word for an FBI agent to use. It was clear that the drug had not worn off completely yet.

"It will pass," his captor promised. "You might feel better if you lay back down."

Aaron ignored that suggestion and looked around. "Where are we?"

"A good place," he said. "You'll be very comfortable here."

Aaron kept looking around, his drugged-out brain finally making sense of what he was seeing. Yep, it was all here. There was the dining area, the living area with its bookshelves and entertainment center, the workout area, the bedroom, and the door ahead of him and off to his right had to be the bathroom. Seeing that door made other very urgent things assert themselves in his attention and he got to his feet. "'Scuse me a sec."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope, I can walk just fine." He proved it by weaving his way into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly behind him. There was no lock on the door, so he pretended there was one and took care of the necessary as quickly as he could. Once done he washed his hands and face and returned to the table, feeling a bit more like himself. The dark silhouette of his kidnapper had not moved. "How long have I been asleep?"

"About seven hours. You've been running low on sleep lately, so I figured you could use the rest."

Hotch drank some more water. His head was getting clearer with each second and he was able to think. "I understand why you took your other victims, but why did you take me?"

"They weren't victims," the kidnapper told him. "They were guests."

Hotch looked at him. "Uh-huh. So, what led you to make me one of your guests?"

"When was the last time someone took care of you?"

"Would this answer my question?"

"Yes."

Aaron thought about it. "The last time I was in the hospital, I suppose. Why is that important?"

"You take care of everyone around you. You deserve someone to take care of you for a change."

For some reason, Aaron could feel himself getting anxious. "What if I like taking care of myself?"

"Then you deserve a break. I'll watch after you, so don't worry, and try to enjoy yourself. Once you relax, you'll like it here."

"What if I don't want to stay?"

The man's head tilted to the side and when he spoke, Hotch could hear the smile in his voice. "And how will you leave?"

"I'm an FBI agent," Hotch reminded him. "If I really want to get out, ten to one, I'll find a way."

"Mm-hmm. Somehow, I don't think that'll happen."

Aaron looked at his surroundings. A brick wall formed a backwards L to his right and behind him. The bedroom was tucked in the corner of the L and the open side of the L had been enclosed with steel fencing and a gate. The unsub was standing behind the gate, watching him.

"Can you tell me what the rules are here?" It was best if he got that out of the way so he would know what to expect.

"The rules? There aren't many. You're to relax and take it easy. I've provided clothes for you and everything you'll need. If there's something you want, you just have to ask for it. Since I'll be preparing your meals, tell me if there's anything you'd like me to make. You're to eat, now. Gerald tried to starve himself, but we took care of that little issue."

"How?"

"A tube. It was only used once. He didn't like it, but the lesson was learned."

Hotch fought down a shiver as it tried to go down his spine. "Okay." His head was starting to pound again and all of a sudden, he felt exhausted.

"Why don't you lie down again for a while. Some of the drug is most likely in your system still."

Aaron nodded. "I think you might be right." He stood up and headed for the bed. "Don't let me sleep too long, or else I won't sleep when it's time."

"Don't worry. I'll be watching."

Hotch didn't want to admit that that was what worried him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Four days passed for the team like successive nightmares, one after the other. They worked, they followed leads, they searched, but they came up with nothing. No matter what they did, who they talked to, or where they went, there was no sign of Hotch.

They often missed meals. If not for their handler, they would have continued until they'd faded away to nothing. As it was, Officer Thomas was kept busy bringing them food, encouraging them to eat, bringing them coffee, and making sure they slept. He put his foot down when he went into the conference room one morning and found them all collapsed in chairs and he sent them back to the hotel that evening, saying that they wouldn't be allowed back into the station until they had at least eight hours of sleep and a good meal under their belts.

"We don't have time for that," Morgan protested as Officer Thomas took a file away from him.

"You haven't had time for that since you got here, and now, you're going to make time," he answered. "None of you are any good to your boss if you keel over from overwork."

Officer Thomas slammed the files in his hands down on the table and startled Reid awake so badly that he toppled to the floor. Their genius lay on the floor, breathing hard and looking stunned. "Have we found Hotch?"

A snicker from Morgan and then it was a lost cause. Everyone started laughing, even Reid.

"Oh, for all the times not to be recording!" Rossi lamented, wiping tears from his eyes. "We'd have won on AFV, no problem!"

"Yeah, we could use the money to give all of us awesome vacations," JJ said. "A month or so off and we'd all be much more the thing."

"Don't let us dream of what we can't have," Emily groaned. "Seriously."

"Once we get Hotch back, we could demand some time off," Reid suggested as he picked himself up and righted his chair. "We'd have bargaining power."

"We have to find him first," Morgan said pointedly, reaching for the files.

"Nope!" Officer Thomas said, clapping a hand down on top of them. "I'm gonna say now what I said before, you all need rest and food."

"I was just asleep," Reid complained.

"I could always get the rest of the station in here," Officer Thomas said thoughtfully. "How would it look if you guys were carried out of here and back to your hotel?"

Quantico would not be happy. JJ fixed him with a glare. "You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The look on his face made them all give in. Someone (it sounded like Morgan) muttered, "Jerk," but Officer Thomas overlooked it and arranged transportation for the tired FBI agents. Once they were back at their hotel rooms all of them dug open their bags, intent on reading over some more files…

"That guy's good," Reid said just as he heard disbelieving complaints coming from his coworkers' rooms as they all discovered their empty bags. Reid sighed and dropped his own empty bag before crawling into bed. He would think up a suitable revenge in the morning for Officer Thomas. He might have to crush him...or go nuclear.

* * *

The curtains snapped back on their rods and sunlight flooded Reid's room. He flinched, squinted at the light, and pulled the blankets over his head with a groan. "What time is it?"

"It's time to rise and face the day, Doctor Sleepyhead!" Penelope said brightly with a smile. "Good morning! Good morning! Good morning!"

Reid jackknifed into a sitting position and looked at their tech analyst. "Penelope? What are you doing here?"

"As it looked like this would be an extended case, the higher-ups gave me permission to join you all and bring supplies-I stopped by everyone's places and picked up clothes and other sundries that are bound to make you happy, and since they love me so much, they've extended our line of credit so we can get other things we need."

Reid swung himself out of bed and made it to his feet. "I can't believe they did that. Every time we mention something to do with money we always get a lecture about wasteful spending."

"I pointed out the benefits to them of having all of you well-rested, well-clothed, well-fed, and all of that, and also pointed out that if you're all in good health with good morale, you'll work that much better. Plus, I reminded them that the potential for embarrassment over an FBI agent's kidnapping by the unsub we're searching for could really give the agency a bad name in some quarters, so they agreed to bring out the big guns in the form of one super-cute analyst and a whole lotta moola." She stopped and looked at his feet. "Reid, you're supposed to take your shoes off when you get into bed."

"Mmmnnh. How did you get into my room?"

"I sweet-talked the front desk," she answered, handing him a to-go cup of coffee. "Everyone else is getting ready, so chop-chop! We're leaving in ten!"

Reid drank his coffee, washed, changed clothes, and joined them all in the lobby in eight minutes. Their car was ready for them and they headed off to the station, where a few staffers they recognized from headquarters was setting up a workstation for Penelope in an unused room.

"Breakfast should be on the table in the conference room, so go eat and then find this guy!" Penelope urged them as soon as they walked into the station. "I'll be at my spot, doing what I do best!"

Officer Thomas was looking very impressed as they all walked in. "That's some girl."

"Yep," Morgan said proudly.

Thomas was still gazing in the direction in which Penelope had gone. "Is she...do you know if anyone...?"

Morgan fixed Officer Thomas with a look. "You're interested in our baby girl?"

Officer Thomas froze. "I'm gonna go see if there's any coffee."

"You do that. But if you're really interested in her, and you end up breaking her heart, you'll have the whole team to deal with, not to mention the fact that she can get into any computer and any system anywhere. Just think about it."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

Morgan headed into their temporary headquarters and grinned.

"How many people have you scared away from Penelope?" Emily asked once Morgan had taken a seat.

"Hey, if the guy still chats her up after all that, then he's probably worth it."

With that, they turned their attention to the information they had at hand. It wasn't enough. They batted around the same theories for close to four hours before they had to admit that it wasn't working.

"We need more information," Reid complained, rubbing his forehead.

"Likes to take care of other people," JJ said thoughtfully. "Takes victims that are themselves some kind of caretakers..."

Rossi nodded. "Well, Hotch certainly cares for his team."

All of them sat and thought about it. Their minds continued in tight little circles that made no progress. It was like driving on a closed highway with no off-ramp, you just covered the same ground that you covered over and over again.

The clatter of high heels on linoleum brought them out of their thoughts. "Oh, my gosh! It's big! I have something! It's incredible! It's on my monitor! Come see!"

They were out of their chairs in less than a second and rushing down the hall behind Penelope. She burst into her workspace at a run and pointed at the monitor. "Look at that!"

"Security camera footage?" Emily said, staring at the poor-quality video.

"There weren't any security cameras around the scene, but there were some in other places," Penelope explained, cueing the footage up and pressing play. "Watch."

The video was grainy, but they could clearly see a white van. A decal on the side declared "Odd Jobs & Sundry, Inc." and two men could be seen in the front of the van. The driver's face couldn't be seen, but the passenger was asleep. He was in a baggy white coverall, a white cap was on his head, but on the footage...

"Is that Hotch?" Reid gasped.

Penelope isolated the frame, enlarged it, and cleaned it up. "Hotch!"

"How better to hide something than in plain sight?" Rossi sighed. "Nobody would look twice at a vehicle that looks like it belongs on the street and is going somewhere to do something. No one would look twice at the people in the van. People would look for someone hidden in the back of a van, but not out in the front seat. If the person looks like he belongs in that seat, they won't even notice him."

"He put Hotch in a coverall and cap to make him look like he belonged there, too," Morgan said thoughtfully. "That means this guy's extremely organized and planned ahead."

"Detail-oriented," JJ said, deep in thoughts of her own. "He planned every single thing...so, he would have to be in a profession that requires a lot of attention to detail and advance planning."

Morgan gave a bleak chuckle. "Okay. Looks like we've got a tag on the guy. You know the one thing he didn't plan for?"

"What?" Reid asked.

"Hotch."

* * *

It had been four days of absolute hell for Hotch. He could not tell what to expect from this guy. For one thing, his face was always covered. There were precious little facial non-verbal tells he could expect. A tilt of his head, a nod, his hands, the way he carried himself...the guy was an expert at hiding what he was feeling. His voice was always pleasant and kind, but there were times when Aaron could tell that...something...was off. Just what it was or what it might mean for him was still a mystery, but he could tell that there was something more going on than what his captor was allowing him to see.

His kidnapper did not bother to wake him up. According to him, Hotch had slept the rest the first day and all that night. He woke up the following morning to the words, "Good morning, Aaron. Are you hungry?" and his nightmare began.

The man was nothing but kind and it was freaking Aaron out in the worst way. He'd seen unsubs be kind before, but this...was a whole other level of crazy. It seemed as if the man's whole purpose was just to do nice things for his captive, which was nuts. There had to be another purpose to this, but Hotch couldn't figure it out.

The first day he was fully conscious was the most difficult. Waking up like that, seeing a man in a ski mask when you were still half-asleep, and then hearing the man offer you breakfast like it was nothing...Aaron still didn't have a word for the feeling he had when that happened. Weirded-out might come close, but there was still a little kernel of panic floating around in there somewhere.

Since he was so hungry he felt a little weak, Aaron agreed to breakfast with little hesitation. He _needed_ food.

"Why don't you go ahead and wash up while I get it ready?" his captor suggested. "Twenty minutes."

Hotch nodded. He had to go the bathroom and after a few days of not showering, no doubt he needed a wash. He felt his skin crawling with the need for soap and hot water. He got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Clothes had been left out for him on a shelf just inside the bathroom door (when had his kidnapper done _that_? He didn't want to think about it.) and towels, a washcloth, and bath products had been left for him on the rim of the bathtub. He took the fastest shower of his life, shaved using the safety razor and shaving gel he found on the sink, brushed his teeth, and dressed.

He left the bathroom with some trepidation, wishing he already knew what to expect. He'd heard statements from all of the other victims, but they fell rather short once someone found himself in the same situation. None of them had mentioned the confusion he felt every minute or the worry...they'd mentioned anxiety at first and then gradually relaxing when nothing bad happened, and Aaron hoped that the pattern would hold for him as well, but for now, the worry was just about killing him.

"I hope you're hungry," the kidnapper said as soon as he spotted Aaron. "It's been a while since you ate."

 _And whose fault is that?_ Aaron wondered to himself.

His captor walked around to where the slot was in the wall and slid a breakfast tray through it. It slid easily into place at the table and Aaron sat down. There was a plate with a cheese omelet, two thin slices of ham, grilled mushrooms, and fruit salad. There was a glass of water and sweet mercy of all mercifulness, there was coffee. Aaron started with the water before moving on to the coffee (how the heck did this guy know how he took his coffee?) and then dug in. One bite of the omelet and he had to pause to marvel at the taste. He finished the bite and swallowed. "Are you a professional chef?"

"I get that question all the time." Aaron could hear the smile in the man's voice.

"If you aren't, you should be. This is very good."

"I'm glad you like it."

After breakfast, Aaron asked if they could talk.

"We can always talk," his captor promised. "Fire away."

"What am I allowed to do?"

"Pretty much anything you like," he promised. "You can watch television, movies, play music, read, exercise...you're here to relax, Aaron. Later, when I'm sure I can trust you, we'll do some things together."

"And would there be any penalties if I tried to escape?"

"An extra week."

Hotch stared at him. "Are you serious?"

"Yes."

Aaron nearly threw himself at the fence in rage. "How is that fair? You've kidnapped me, I'm going to lose three months of my life-not to mention three months of my son's life!-and if I try to leave, you're going to tack an extra week on?"

"I won't as long as you don't try to leave ahead of time," the kidnapper pointed out.

"I still don't like the fact that I've been kidnapped."

"No one does."

"Then why do you do it?"

His captor shrugged. "Any other questions?"

Aaron thought about it. "What if you're not here and there's an emergency?"

"There are fail-safes in place. If there were an emergency, the locks would unlock and you would be able to get out of the building safely."

Aaron looked thoughtfully at the gate. "Could I see how it works?"

"If the building catches fire, I'll be happy to show you," the man said, sounding as if he were smiling. "That was clever, Aaron."

Hotch shrugged. "I had to try." Then an awful thought occurred to him. "That doesn't count as an attempt, does it?"

Later, Hotch reflected that that had to be the first time he'd ever made a kidnapper laugh so hard. He was glad when the man said that no, it didn't count as an escape attempt, but it was a little hard to hear him because of how much he was laughing. Aaron surprised himself because he actually could feel himself smiling in response. It was all too easy to forget that this man was his kidnapper instead of just another human being.

A personable kidnapper. Would wonders never cease? Idly he wondered just how many kidnappers ended up being liked by their captives. If Reid were there, he would probably have some nice little statistic to offer, most likely about Stockholm Syndrome.

The kidnapper went on to say that there would be times when he would have to leave Aaron by himself for a little while and that he would pick up anything that Aaron would like while he was out. He had to go out that afternoon, so was there anything he'd like?

"A newspaper," Aaron answered immediately. If there were any information about the kidnapper in the paper, he wanted to read it.

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Nothing comes to mind."

"All right. Why don't you look around your quarters for a while? I have something to take care of in another room. I'll be monitoring you to be sure you're all right."

Hotch did not find that reassuring, but he did wander about and look at things. It had to be one of the most effective ways to hold someone prisoner, keep them comfortable while allowing the captor full access to the victim, and keep the captive from attacking the captor that he'd ever seen. If the captive stood facing the gate, then to the right and behind him there was a floor to ceiling brick wall, forming a backwards L. Across the open space of the L was floor to ceiling wire fencing and the gate that would allow the kidnapper to come in if necessary. The large space was divided up by screens, but his captor could always see where he was since all of the screens were only partial screens. Anyone outside the gate would have to look at either the bottom or top of the screens to see his feet or head. There was nowhere to hide but the bathroom.

He found the cameras easily enough. They were attached to the ceiling in several places and all out of his reach. Even if he stood on the table, he would still be unable to reach them. Perhaps if he stacked a chair on top of the table? No, any countermeasures like that should wait until his kidnapper was out of the building and preferably across town.

His captor had thought of plenty of things to keep him busy and amused. He found a cabinet full of board games, sketchbooks and pencils, and a Kindle. It was not able to connect to the Internet but there were plenty of games and books stored on it. There was also a cabinet filled with DVDs and CDs, and there was an entertainment center. There were two tall bookshelves bolted to the wall and stuffed with books and a smaller shelf in the bedroom area. They were filled with classic novels, contemporary thrillers and bestsellers, popular nonfiction works, comic collections, puzzle books, and plenty of other books that looked interesting. Whoever his captor was, he had a wide taste in literature.

His kidnapper returned to prepare lunch for him (loaded baked potato soup, French bread, and spinach salad) and chatted with him. Carefully, Hotch drew him out question by question, but he was unable to learn anything. The man wouldn't admit to what his job was, wouldn't tell Aaron just where they were, and seemed to enjoy keeping things behind his teeth.

It was frustrating in the extreme.

"Will you at least tell me your name?" Aaron sighed. "I can't keep calling you 'hey, you' all the time."

The kidnapper tilted his head and thought about it. "Alexander."

"Is that your real name?"

"It's what you can call me."

"Okay."

Alexander did go out that afternoon and was gone four hours. Hotch waited a half-hour before pulling a chair on top of the table and reaching for the nearest camera. It was still out of his reach and he spent most of the next hour moving the table and chair around and trying to reach the cameras. If he were just six inches taller, he would have been able to take them down. Feeling a little sore from all the stretching, Hotch put the furniture back into place and switched on the television. There was cable, so he spent a while channel-surfing. He stumbled across the noon news for Pacerton and he was delighted when there was a segment about the current kidnapping. The news station was able to confirm that a male victim had been taken, but they did not say that it had been one of the FBI agents who were supposed to be catching the kidnapper. Thank goodness for small mercies. Footage was shown of his team leaving their transport and heading inside Pacerton PD, but that was all.

Hotch felt an overwhelming sense of homesickness then. He wanted to be back where he belonged, with his team and working cases. All of his team had dark shadows under their eyes and looked exhausted, but they were still working on finding him. It was heartening. The best thing he could do for them was to hang in there until he could either find a way out or they could find him.

Alexander returned a few hours later. He was wearing his ski mask again, and he looked at Aaron and tilted his head. "Have fun climbing the furniture?"

"I wanted to look at the cameras more closely," Aaron said evenly, determined not to let it be a big deal.

"I see. Do you enjoy tinkering with things?"

"Honestly, it's not something I've ever thought about. It'd be something to do."

Alexander nodded. "Mm-hmm. I brought your paper." He walked around the enclosure and slid it through the slot onto the table. "If you want anything else, you just have to ask. Dinner will be in two hours."

"Thanks," Hotch said, picking up the paper. The _New York Times_. Not a local paper, then. Interesting. He sat down at the table and unfolded it, reading each article. There was not a single word in the paper about what was going on in Pacerton. Aaron couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. When he came to the crossword puzzle he grinned and found a pencil so he could work on it. He was puzzling through a clue when he heard, "Time for dinner, Aaron."

He came back to earth with a jolt. No, he couldn't believe it. He refused to believe that he'd gotten so involved in a crossword puzzle that he'd forgotten all about his kidnapper. Then again, given what he knew about people kept in captivity, their minds would find ways to relax and remove some of the pressure being held against their will forced on them. Ten to one, that was likely what had just happened to him. A survival mechanism, nothing more.

Dinner that night nearly made him drop to his knees in gratitude. He had a baked potato with sour cream and butter, green beans with bacon, and a steak that melted on the tongue and made his tastebuds sing. He moaned a little at the taste before he could stop himself.

"I think you like it," Alexander said from his seat outside of the enclosure. "Am I right?"

"I repeat what I said this morning," Hotch said, taking a sip of water. "You should be a chef."

"Thank you. That's very gratifying to hear."

After dinner Aaron tried to get Alexander to talk to him, but the man was an expert at dodging questions. Just when it looked like Aaron was about to corner him and make him finally give a piece of information away, Alexander got to his feet. "There was something I forgot to give you earlier. In fact, it was why I went out today."

Aaron didn't know what to make of that. "Okay."

Alexander left the room and returned a few minutes later, carrying two picture frames. He carried them around to the slot where he put the food trays and slid them through. "There. Like them?"

Hotch picked up the pictures and stared. One picture was a group picture of him and his team, all grinning at the camera. They'd been out somewhere together and the bartender had snapped a picture of them. The second was Jack's last school picture. He'd had smaller versions of each in his wallet. "How did you get these?"

"Your wallet. I took the originals today and had larger copies made so they could be framed. That way, you'll have pictures you can put in your bedroom."

It took Aaron a moment to realize that Alexander meant his bedroom in the enclosure. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The psychedelic trip that had become his life continued. Each day, there were home-cooked meals, conversation with Alexander, and distracting himself when Alexander wasn't around. He began to feel tired a lot of the time simply due to the stress. Once a week had passed, he knew he had to do something.

He was going to make a break for it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The mood in the room was tense. Hotch's team was staring down Officer Thomas with all the determination they could muster. Morgan was the one to state what was on their minds. "No."

"Try again. You are all exhausted. You need rest."

"We've got coffee," Reid stated. "We're good."

"No, you're not. If you won't go back to your hotel, at least trade off and bunk down here somewhere. But you need to sleep."

A snore interrupted them. Rossi was in his chair, head pillowed on his folded arms on the table, dead to the world.

"And that's the guy who says he's never been able to take a nap," Officer Thomas pointed out. "Come on, you guys!"

"Fine," Morgan snapped. "Reid, you and Prentiss bunk down first. JJ and I will follow, and then Rossi and Garcia."

"I'm not even tired," Reid complained.

"Do NOT pull the 'I'm wide-awake' act with me, Reid," Morgan told him pointedly. "I know how much sleep you've gotten the past few days…"

"It's more than you've had!" Reid shot back.

"And if Hotch isn't here, he'd want us to look out for each other, so you're getting some rest!" Morgan continued, not even catching what Reid had said. "Either that, or I send you back home!"

Reid glared at him. "Oh, no. There is NO way you're doing that!"

"I will if I have to!"

"Nobody made you the head of this team in Hotch's absence, Morgan!"

"Well, Rossi's out of commission!"

Officer Thomas stalked out of the room and returned a minute later with a bullhorn, which he blasted at full volume, making all of them wince and Rossi jerk upright. "Okay, I've heard enough. You're all going to get some rest and none of you are going to argue about it. In six hours I'll wake you up and then you'll be able to press on, but you are going to take a break before you kill each other."

"We have a job to do, and trading off to sleep is fine," Prentiss stated, rubbing at her right ear. "We don't all need to be down…"

"Either you guys get some rest or I'm calling Quantico."

J.J., Reid, Prentiss, Morgan, and Rossi all froze in horror.

"You wouldn't!" Morgan growled.

"Try me."

Rossi pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and waved it back and forth. "All right, all right. We give in. If I slept through an argument, then it's a sure sign that all of us need to get some rest. As the most senior member in terms of age here, I'm stepping in and putting my foot down. Show us where we can crash."

It was a good thing that most of the cells were empty. All of them were able to stretch out on cots and actually sleep. When Officer Thomas checked on them in an hour, all of them were as dead to the world as they could be without actually being dead. Reid was hugging a pillow, which was cute. Morgan was asleep on his back with his arms out to his side, and Rossi was wrapped up like an FBI burrito. Emily and JJ were both in the same cell, sacked out. Garcia was in her temporary office, stretched out in her office chair with a pillow under her head. Feeling as if he'd gotten a job well done, Officer Thomas headed back to his desk. He had some paperwork to finish and now seemed like a good time to do it.

* * *

He woke all of them with bags of breakfast food and cups of coffee. They got up, made the bunks, straightened their clothes and hair as best they could, ate and drank, and then they went back to work. None of them, not even Garcia, had been able to track down a business called "Odd Jobs & Sundry" or get a track on that van. All of the business in Pacerton that had white vans had checked out already. They had no idea where else to look.

Reid was looking over the lists of businesses and checking the maps of the area where the security camera had captured Hotch. He was trying to build possible routes that the van might have taken and then locate possible places where Hotch might be. It was incredible that a vehicle could disappear so completely, as if some random garage in some random guy's house just opened up and… "Oh, I am an IDIOT!" Reid groaned, getting to his feet.

"With your IQ, that would be too much to hope for," Morgan said, rubbing his left temple. "What makes you think you're an idiot?"

"We checked businesses with white vans, but do you know what we didn't check?"

Emily looked up from her notepad. "Businesses with...black vans?"

"No, individuals," Reid pointed out. "Just because the guy made the van look like it belonged to a business doesn't mean that there was a business! The business thing was a disguise! Hide in plain sight, like Rossi said!"

"That makes all of us idiots and you a genius, Reid," Rossi told him as Reid rushed to the whiteboard and started writing. "None of us realized it."

"I should have realized it sooner!" Reid complained. "Three Ph.d.s and I couldn't figure that out before now!" Reid turned and ran out of the conference room toward Garcia's little corner of the station. "Garcia! We need help!" Reid barely turned in time to avoid colliding with Officer Thomas and a bespectacled man in a bow tie and cardigan.

Officer Thomas poked his head into the conference room. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, we may have a new lead," Rossi told him. "He's excited."

Officer Thomas looked down the hall where Reid was talking a mile a minute to Garcia. "Uh-huh. Well, I brought a friend. This is Richard Quill, a psychological consultant we use. Thought it might be a good idea for you guys to talk to him."

The looks he was getting from the team made Quill back up a pace. "It's...nice to meet you. I'll be happy to help any way I can. Fresh eyes and so on."

"That, and he's my relief," Officer Thomas said. "I need to put in an appearance at home and get some rest of my own. He's gonna be here if you need anything."

"Thanks," Morgan said, fighting the urge to be rude. Looked like Officer Thomas was practicing what he preached and getting some rest. At least the guy had that going for him, but they didn't need a babysitter.

Four hours later, Morgan had to admit that Quill was actually kind of helpful. He brought coffee, arranged lunch for them, and calmed them all down when their tempers rode high. At long last, Garcia came out of her den and delivered five copies of a list. "Here's all the people in Pacerton who have white vans of any make or model registered to them," she said, dropping into a chair. "That is an unexpectedly popular car."

"We've got a lot of families here in town, and some of them are big. Sometimes a van is the only choice they have," Quill told them.

"Let's look at individuals, first," Morgan said, looking at the list. "Profile says he doesn't have a family."

Garcia had taken a seat and was idly flipping through the witness statements when she paused and read something closely. "Oh, I am an IDIOT!" She dropped the file and ran top-speed out of the room, her high heels clacking on the linoleum floor.

Everybody had to chuckle a little bit in the silence that followed. One remark from Rossi made them all lose it.

"So, we're two for two?"

They laughed for almost five minutes before they started to calm down and breathe.

"Wonder what she saw that made her say that," JJ said thoughtfully, looking the way Garcia had run.

"I'm sure she'll tell us with time," Dave told her. "Let's take a look at these lists, shall we?"

* * *

Aaron coughed and winced at the pain in his head. Of all things to happen...of ALL things to HAPPEN...being sick sucked. Being sick while being kidnapped? Infinitely worse. It was as if the gods decided to kick him when he was already down and throw in a dash of impossible while they were at it. It was infuriating, but he didn't have too much energy to expend on the feeling. If anything, he had next to no energy to expend at all.

He'd managed to hide his illness for almost five hours, but in the end, Alexander noticed something was off.

The day had started all right. He'd woken up with just a slight headache and he figured it was due to tension. He lay in bed for a while, thinking about things and thinking about Jack, and he only got up when Alexander approached the fencing and said, "Time to get up, Aaron."

It was the first day Hotch had not gotten up immediately when told to. He sighed and pushed his head under the pillow. "No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is," Alexander persisted. "It's eight o'clock, and your breakfast will be ready in half-an-hour. Hurry up, now."

A kidnapper willing to make you a hot breakfast every morning. He still couldn't understand it. Wrestling a little with a mutinous feeling, Hotch got out of bed and started to pull the sheets, pillows, and blankets straight. It was something that Alexander insisted on every morning, that Aaron make his bed and things were kept tidy. He'd stated more than once that a neatened living area would have a positive effect on Hotch's mental state and while Hotch had read studies suggesting something similar, he still felt rebellious each time he made his bed. Alexander wasn't the one being kept in that room against his will, was he? Hotch wanted to leave things messy just for spite, but Alexander was adamant that things were tidied every day, and he could give mosquitoes lessons in how to be annoying. It was easier to just do as he asked.

He washed and dressed, and as he dressed he thought about how Alexander managed to set clothes out for him every morning. Hotch never woke up when Alexander let himself in or when he pulled out the clothes. Hotch had looked through the drawers in the bedroom and sure enough, the polo shirt he was pulling on was one he'd seen folded in the drawer only yesterday. It was a well-known casual brand of clothing, not ruinously expensive but not cheap, either. Given the number of items in the drawers, this guy had probably spent close to two thousand dollars on a new wardrobe for him. Hotch tried not to think about that too much-what did such a gesture mean to the unsub and would he expect anything from him in return? Shaking his head, Aaron pulled on the jeans and sneakers and left the bathroom. No good would come of fretting about things.

The tray was already sitting on the table when he emerged from the bathroom, the food still nice and hot. There were oatmeal waffles, sausage patties, and strawberries for breakfast, along with orange juice and coffee. He dove into it, but after a few minutes he felt his appetite diminish and he left almost one third of everything on the tray.

Alexander noticed. "Usually you eat almost everything," he said as he pulled the tray through the slot. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine," Aaron assured him. "Really. Just not too hungry today."

Alexander clearly didn't believe him. "All right."

Hotch had noticed that Alexander kept him to a schedule. He knew that schedules would reassure anyone in a situation like his, so it wasn't a surprise that Alexander had set up a schedule for him. What really bothered him was that _he_ found it reassuring. He didn't feel as threatened by the whole situation when he knew what was going to happen next. In the morning, Alexander would wake him at eight and then by eight-thirty breakfast was ready. After eating, Hotch would usually turn on the the television to watch the news and to channel-surf. He didn't often do that at home, but he could usually find something interesting to watch for a little while. After his morning television, Hotch would change clothes and hit the exercise equipment for a while. A treadmill and hand weights were not a substitute for a full workout, but it was better than nothing. Today, though, he felt poorly enough to forego the workout. Since he sometimes did that in favor of more relaxing, Alexander didn't make an issue out of it and let him be.

Lunch was usually soup and a sandwich of some kind, or soup, salad, and bread. Sometimes Alexander prepared him a pasta dish filled with meat and vegetables to change things up and there was always fruit for dessert. Aaron stared down at the chicken tortilla soup, arugula salad, French bread, and mixed fruit as if they were enemies bent on his destruction. He made a good effort, but he wasn't able to finish any of it and left most of it behind on the tray. He felt a bit like a kid who wanted to hide his vegetables so he wouldn't get into trouble for not eating them. Alexander would be sure to notice how much he hadn't eaten as soon as he came for the tray.

He left the table and browsed the bookshelves, settling down with a humor miscellany by a popular radio host. He was curled up in his chair when Alexander came for the tray. He pulled it through the slot, stared at it, and then came around the wall to the fencing. "Aaron?"

Hotch pretended to be absorbed in his book. "Hmm?"

"You didn't eat much at breakfast and you ate even less at lunch. Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

Aaron looked up at him and tried to radiate innocence. Jack could do it with no problem, but Aaron found it a little more difficult. "Yeah. I feel fine."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

"Just not too hungry. Captivity can sometimes decrease appetite. Surely you've seen that in your guests?"

"This goes beyond that," Alexander insisted. "Trust me, I know."

That...was an interesting statement to make. Aside from watching his "guests" and seeing how much they ate and witnessing any decreases in appetite, did Alexander have first-hand knowledge? How would that have been gained, though? Had Alexander been a kidnapping victim as well at some point in his life? Hotch took a deep breath and then regretted it when the breath triggered a cough.

"Aha! See, I knew it. You're getting sick. You're coughing and you look a little flushed."

"One cough does not an illness make," Hotch protested.

"Uh-huh. How about you prove me wrong?"

Aaron called on all the patience he possessed. "What do you suggest?"

"There's a thermometer in the medicine cabinet in your bathroom. Why don't you go get it and we take your temperature? If it's normal, then I'll stop nagging you about this, but if you have a fever, then you'll agree to get back in bed and let me take care of you."

"You're already doing that!" Hotch snapped. "Twenty-four hours a day, you're taking care of me, and I'm a little tired of it! I want to be let out of here and I want to go home! Do you know how worried I am about my son, what he must think about his father's disappearance and then days going by with absolutely no word?! Doing this to someone only takes your needs into account, but what about the people you take? If you really cared about me, then you would let me OUT!"

He would have continued, but a cough took hold and wouldn't stop. By the time the paroxysm of coughing stopped, Hotch was fighting to breathe, but eventually, his breathing eased and he felt a little better.

Hands came down on Hotch's shoulders, making him sit down on the sofa. "Easy," Alexander said, keeping hold of him. "Slow breaths. That's it. Focus on breathing slowly. There you go. Are you dizzy?"

"A little," Aaron croaked. "You might be right about me being sick." Alexander was in the enclosure with him...geez, he was big up close...wait a moment...

Training kicked in then. Aaron punched up and out with both fists and leapt to his feet, and Alexander toppled over, landing on the coffee table and breaking it in two. Aaron dashed past him to the open gate and slammed it closed, but the lock didn't engage. Damn! He didn't know the combination! He fled away from the gate and across the open space, looking for a door, ANY door! He headed for the nearest one…

"AARON!"

Hotch put on a burst of speed and ignored the burn in his chest and reached the door. The knob didn't turn and the door didn't budge...the door was steel...he couldn't kick it down...where was the nearest window?

He was in the midst of heading for the wall, hoping he could spot a window when Alexander caught up to him. Too late he spotted the windows up above his head, a row of them across the wall, much like a warehouse. He'd just taken in this information when Alexander caught up to him, taking him down in a tackle worthy of a football all-star. They landed in a heap on the floor and Aaron had the breath knocked out of him. Alexander picked them both up and practically wrestled Hotch back into the enclosure. Aaron's heart dropped as he heard the lock engage.

"I'll give you a half-hour," Alexander told him, standing on the other side of the fence. "When I come back, I'll expect you to have changed into some pajamas and gotten back into bed. I'll check you over when I return, and if you let me do that, and you take some medicine, and not try to overpower me again, then I won't tack on an extra week. Do you understand?"

Aaron glared at him, gave a curt nod, and then headed into the bedroom. He pulled out a fresh set of pajamas and went into the bathroom to change. He didn't know if it was his failed escape attempt or the illness, but he felt awful and didn't feel too badly about following Alexander's orders and getting into bed. He just wanted to lie down for a while and forget the world existed.

Usually, after lunch Alexander would bring him a newspaper and Aaron would read, watch a movie, play music, or Alexander would talk with him. He knew he couldn't expect that today; Alexander was probably way too pissed. Still, it would be nice to have a distraction from how he felt.

He was in bed for a total of ten minutes before Alexander arrived. He let himself into the enclosure and made sure to lock the gate behind him before heading into the bedroom area. He carried an old-fashioned, black leather doctor's bag. "Sit up, please, Aaron, so I can take a listen to you."

Aaron did as he was told and what followed was a normal doctor's exam, confirming their theory that Alexander was in a position of authority where he cared for people. Alexander was probably either a doctor or in the medical field. Alexander looked down his throat, in his ears, pressed gently on his sinuses, and listened to his lungs. He asked questions and Hotch answered them, and finally Aaron was allowed to lay back down.

"Looks like you have bronchitis. You'll be down for a couple of days, but you should recover with no problem if you rest, eat, drink, and take your medicine on time." He pulled a bottle and dosing cup out of his bag and filled the cup. "Here, drink this."

"What is it?"

"Cough syrup to give you some rest from the coughing. That will wear you out faster than you'd believe."

Aaron sat up and knocked back the entire dose in one swallow, wincing a bit at the taste. Alexander handed him a bottle of water and he took it gratefully, glad to drink something to get the taste out of his mouth.

"That might make you a little sleepy, so stay in bed," Alexander advised, packing up his bag.

Aaron could have throttled him. "You couldn't have told me that before I took it?"

"You wouldn't have taken it if I had, and right now, you need your rest. I'm going to get you set up so you're comfortable and then I'll be going out to get a few things."

In just a few minutes Alexander had moved the television and remote into Aaron's bedroom and brought several books and placed them on the bedside table. He left the enclosure and came back with several bottles of water and placed them where they could be easily reached. Once Aaron had switched on the television and settled back into his pillows, Alexander left, leaving Aaron to contemplate the latest episode of a crime drama while Alexander went off to do...whatever it was he was going to do. Aaron found himself feeling too sick to care too much what it was.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Good morning, one and all," Officer Thomas said brightly, jerking them all out of a sound sleep. "I see none of you even made it to the bunks last night, let alone your hotel."

Reid cracked open bleary eyes. "Too much to do. We were checking a new angle."

"And how did that turn out?"

"Dead end."

"Mm-hmm," Officer Thomas said, placing some large plastic containers on the table for them along with a bag holding paper plates, plastic silverware, and napkins. "I've brought you breakfast. You guys look like you could use a good meal."

The scent of scrambled eggs and bacon brought Morgan back from the dead, and both Emily and JJ raised their heads at the same time. Emily inhaled deeply and smiled. "What smells so good?"

"Breakfast," Reid said, rubbing his face in an attempt to wake himself up. "Officer Thomas brought it."

"From where?" JJ asked as Officer Thomas opened containers.

"My place. One of my hobbies is cooking, so I thought I'd give you guys a little TLC today. I also stopped by the best coffee house in town and got you guys some coffee with all the fixings, so dig in."

At the word coffee, Rossi was on his feet and heading for the "ambrosia of the gods," as he put it and a minute later he was helping himself to scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, sausage links, home fries, and fruit salad. As soon as he took the first bite he leaned back in his chair with a smile. "Oh, wow. My ma would love you. Were a professional chef before you joined the force?"

Officer Thomas grinned. "I get that question all the time. No, I learned to cook so I could impress the ladies."

Emily took a bite of the eggs and grinned. "Consider me impressed."

"Impressed with what?" Garcia asked as she wandered in, clutching an empty coffee mug. "Oh, thank all things merciful, there's coffee!"

"Officer Thomas brought us breakfast," Reid said, breaking a strip of bacon apart into his eggs. "He made it himself."

Garcia helped herself to some coffee and once she was feeling a little more human she fixed herself a plate. One bite and she knew that Officer Thomas had missed his true calling. "Oh, my. I need this recipe."

"I'll get you a copy," Officer Thomas promised with a grin. Suddenly, he looked very pleased with himself, and Morgan sat up and watched closely.

"I don't want to put you through any trouble," Garcia said, a bit uncertain. Cops were busy guys, after all.

"No trouble at all."

Morgan cleared his throat and Officer Thomas made himself scarce, saying he had to check in with his partner. Everyone except Penelope watched him go with a knowing eye. The poor guy had it bad and he'd have a heck of a time with Morgan on the watch. Still, if he persevered, then anyone on the team could see that he was worth Penelope Garcia.

* * *

The smell of hot toast coated with warm apple butter and cinnamon brought Aaron out of a deep sleep. For the past few days Alexander had been bringing him meals in bed and he had to admit, it was kind of nice, in a weird, creepy sort of way. He opened his eyes and sat up just in time for Alexander to put another pillow behind his shoulders and smooth his blankets.

"Sleep well?" Alexander asked, his smile audible in his voice.

"It was that darned tea," Hotch said as Alexander put the breakfast tray across his knees. "You were right that it would help me sleep."

"Of course I was," Alexander told him, handing him a folded newspaper.

"What was in it?"

"Passiflora, chamomile, hops, lavender, and lemongrass, plus some honey for sweetness. I call it my 'sleep like a baby' tea."

The name was apt. "It worked. Since I slept so well last night and it's been a while since I coughed, is there any chance of my getting up today? I feel like a slug lying in bed all the time."

Alexander looked at him, studying his color. "After breakfast, I'll take a listen to you and then we'll see what's what, hmm?"

Hotch had to be content with that. Once Alexander had tucked him in after his aborted escape attempt, he got worse pretty quickly. Even with the cough medicine he'd worn himself out with coughing and he found it pretty difficult to stay awake for very long. Alexander had brought in a humidifier, gave him breathing treatments with a nebulizer, and checked him daily to make sure he was all right. Having coughing fit after coughing fit had scared the heck out of him and at one point he'd begged Alexander to take him to a hospital. "What if I'm so sick that there's nothing you can do?" he'd argued when Alexander told him a hospital wasn't necessary. "How do you know I'm all right and I don't need a hospital?"

"I have pretty extensive medical training, Aaron," Alexander told him. "In case you haven't worked it out for yourself already, that is, so you don't need to worry. If you ever reach the point where a hospital is necessary, I'll take you."

That hadn't been reassuring in the slightest, but Alexander had been right. A few days of misery and then he began to get better. Progress was slow, but at least it was progress. He began to spend more time awake, his appetite returned, and he began to spend more time sitting up. His goal now was to get up and walk around a bit. The sooner he was back on his feet, the sooner he could get the heck out of there.

Alexander had kept him to a schedule even while he'd been sick. In the morning, he would bring Aaron breakfast in bed, usually something light, tasty, and easy to eat. Afterward, Aaron would be given a half-hour in the bathroom to wash up and change clothes, and then he'd be back in bed, with clean sheets appearing on the bed every other day. He could watch the morning news, if he wanted, or page through a newspaper, and then he would watch a movie or a few episodes of a TV show. (Netflix and Hulu were incredible things, especially if you were at risk of boredom). Around late morning he started to get tired, so he would relax and play music until lunch, sometimes taking a little power nap. Alexander would bring him lunch (again, easy to eat and tasty) and after lunch, Alexander would sit with him and play a board or card game with him. They'd worked out a system that if Hotch answered ten personal questions about himself during the course of the game, then Alexander would take off a day. Five questions meant he'd have a half-day removed. So far, Hotch had answered fifty-five questions, which meant that he'd earned his release five and a half days sooner. The one condition was that Hotch couldn't volunteer information; he had to be answering one of Alexander's questions. Around the middle of the afternoon, Aaron would settle down for another rest, or Alexander would read to him until dinner. After dinner Aaron would watch television or page through a magazine or book, and then around nine-thirty Alexander would chat with him for about a half-hour and bring him a hot drink, and then it would be time for bed.

This had to be the strangest kidnapping and captivity in history. He'd been kidnapped by a man who waited on him hand and foot, took care of him the same way a father would care for his son, and spoiled him silly. Hotch was sure this case would make it into the textbooks, and in the indexes it would be found under the entry "Kidnapping, strange and weird." He only hoped being kidnapped wouldn't have a negative effect on his career. He was the team leader of the BAU and he should have been much harder to kidnap.

Alexander kept his promise to check Hotch over after breakfast and deemed him fit enough to get up for a little while provided he promise to lay down for an hour or so after lunch. Desperate to get out of bed for a while, Hotch promised willingly enough and spent the morning in the living room, reading a book and working on a crossword puzzle. He was trying to puzzle through a clue about a "little rascally pup" when Alexander appeared at the gate. "Aaron?"

"Hmm?"

"How would you like to have lunch with me this afternoon? If you sit down and share a meal with me, I'll take off a day."

Aaron thought about it. If he did, then he would be one day closer to getting back to Jack. "What are we having? And please don't say soup." He'd had soup of every description for lunch and dinner ever since he first got sick that it would be a very long time before he wanted it again.

Alexander threw his head back and laughed at that. "I guess after so many days eating it, you would be tired of soup by now. No, don't worry. I've made turkey tetrazzini, instead. How does that sound?"

Aaron's mouth watered. "That would be perfect."

Before long they were seated across from each other at the table. Alexander's half of it was in shadow and Hotch nearly freaked when Alexander reached up and pulled off the ski mask he wore around him to prevent Aaron from seeing his face. "I hope you're hungry, Aaron," Alexander told him, placing the mask on the table. "After being ill, you need your strength."

Aaron looked at the full plate in front of him. "It's not soup. Trust me, I'll be eating."

With that, they dug in, and Aaron had to just pause and marvel once he tasted the first bite of turkey tetrazzini. "Mmm. Oh, wow. This is incredible."

"I'm glad you like it," Alexander said, his voice quiet. "It's a recipe I haven't made in a while, so I wasn't sure if you'd enjoy it."

Aaron swallowed his present mouthful and smiled. "Don't worry. This is great. Any chance you'd share the recipe?

"Do you know what happened when Queen Victoria asked her chef for a recipe?"

Aaron shook his head. "No. What?"

"He said that a chef's secrets were sacrosanct."

Aaron nodded. "I see. Okay, I'll just have to guess what goes in it and wing it. I'm sure my son would love this."

Alexander chuckled, sounding like a fond uncle. "My son loved it, too, when he was small."

It was the first truly personal bit of information that Alexander had ever shared with him and for a moment he was floored. He couldn't believe it. This guy was a family man. That went against the profile for certain. "Any other children?"

"No. Just my son. Personality-wise, he's a lot like you."

Aaron couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "What's his name?"

A chuckle from the darkness. "That would be telling, Aaron. As for telling...tell me, what's the best book you ever read?"

That was the end of Alexander's sharing session and the start of Aaron's. He answered ten questions about his favorite book, his favorite pastimes, his favorite movies, and his favorite and least favorite subjects at school.

"The worst class I ever had was freshman history my first year of college. Every single lecture my professor spoke in monotone, and he spoke as if his own subject bored him. It was impossible to stay awake in that class and I'm still wondering how I passed it."

Alexander chuckled and refilled Hotch's water glass. "I'm sure he didn't bother grading the finals. Perhaps he just gave a B to everyone."

"It wouldn't surprise me. If I recall it correctly, I did get a B."

That made Alexander throw back his head and laugh. Such a change always startled Hotch more than he wanted to admit. One moment, he was a presence in the shadows, and the next, he was a jovial meal companion. The change was always unsettling. Alexander's laughter eased off but Hotch could still hear a smile in his voice. "You see?" He stopped and studied Hotch's empty plate. "Do you feel up for some dessert?"

Hotch's appetite clamored for something sweet. "What's for dessert?"

"Hot apple cobbler."

His mouth watered. " _Oh_ , yes."

Alexander chuckled, donned his ski mask again, and fetched the cobbler. Hot apples, cinnamon and sugar, and crumb topping...ahh, comfort food. For one moment, Hotch was so taken up by the taste that he had to let out a happy, heartfelt sigh.

A soft, indulgent chuckle from Alexander brought him back from apple and cinnamon bliss. "For a second, it looked as if you wanted to climb into the cobbler and live there."

A mental image of himself building a house out of apples with crumb topping for a roof made him smile. "You know, I just might. It's very good."

That only made Alexander laugh more, and for a split second, for the briefest moment, Aaron felt as if he were sitting across from a friend who knew him as well as he knew himself. Not someone his own age but someone older and wiser. Someone who he could count on to understand him, almost like a father figure.

He didn't want to think how much that scared him.

* * *

Reid was deep in a map of Pacerton and its environs when a startled scream from Garcia's workstation sent all of them running at top speed for their analyst. Garcia came running toward them at top speed, her high heels clacking like a startled horse's hooves. "OH MY GOSH! You won't believe it! I don't believe it! It's incredible! My monitor-it's on my monitor!"

"What is it, baby girl?" Morgan demanded, shaken by Penelope's rapid fire speech. "Talk to us!"

Penelope took a deep breath. "I've got eyes on Hotch!"

A pause. Then, "WHAT?"

Garcia whirled and took off at top speed for her workstation. "Come and see!" She scurried back down the hallway and the rest of the team followed. Penelope dropped into her chair and wheeled up to keyboard and with two taps, she brought up a video feed. "You know how I was looking through the witness statements? It was Reid talking about the white vans owned by individuals that got me to think about it. All of the victims described being held in a place that looked like a warehouse, so I was checking all individuals that owned commercial property in Pacerton rather than companies..."

"That was good idea, Penelope," Rossi told her.

"Well, I haven't found anything yet, but I did have a program monitoring the dark web using different keywords that could help me find any connections between surveillance equipment, a warehouse, factory, what have you, as well as things like fencing and furniture-the guy would have to outfit the place, wouldn't he? I was hoping that if I did that I would come up with the name of our unsub, but it looks like the keywords led me to a chatroom. Looks like the unsub has had his video feed hacked and the recordings are being viewed and discussed by people. Look!"

They looked, and there was Hotch, sitting on a sofa and holding a newspaper. It looked like he was working on the crossword puzzle, and he was trying to solve a clue when a man in a ski mask approached the fencing and spoke to him. Hotch looked up, responded, and minutes later they were sitting down to a meal at the table.

"Just like the victims said," Rossi sighed. "The unsub liked to share meals with them and talk, and if they answered questions, then he would subtract some time."

"It's a powerful incentive," Emily added. "For Hotch, most definitely. Time taken off would mean it would be that much sooner he could get back to Jack."

They had called Hotch's sister-in-law Jessica as soon as they'd been able to and she'd agreed without being asked to keep Jack as long as needed. They hadn't needed to explain much. "Just bring him back alive and in one piece," she'd said. "Please. Jack deserves that."

The only answer they'd been able to give her was, Of course. They just didn't know when they'd be able to manage it.

Reid watched the feed for a moment, and then he noticed the clock on the wall in the video and he checked his watch. "Garcia, is this live?"

She checked. "Yep. We can keep an eye on Hotch every second, if we want."

Reid grabbed another chair and moved it in front of one of the spare monitors. "Can you bring up the feed so I can watch it from the beginning? Fast forward and rewind and all that?"

A few taps on the keyboard and the feed was up on the screen in front of Reid. "There."

The team was split for the next few hours as Reid watched the beginning of their boss's captivity. It showed the unsub carrying Hotch in a fireman's hold into the enclosure and laying him down on the bed. He removed the white cap and worker's smock and straightened Hotch's clothes before feeling his forehead. Hotch began to wake up then and the unsub started to undress Hotch.

"Oh, my God," JJ breathed, certain they were about to see something horrible.

Only they didn't. Once Hotch was stripped down to one layer the unsub turned Hotch onto his side, laid him in the recovery position, and tucked him in, smoothing his hair and holding his hand while he slept.

"Okay, now that's weird," Rossi said after a moment. "He looks like...well, I don't know. An indulgent father, almost, who's just tucked his tired kid into bed."

"The profile says he's not a family man, though," Derek reminded him.

"We might need to change the profile," Rossi stated. "Maybe he was at one time. Who knows? At any rate, he knows how to take care of someone else."

"He might have lost someone," Emily hypothesized. "And, to fill that void, he kidnaps a substitute."

"But why not just keep the first victim?" JJ asked.

"Maybe he needs to find the right one?" Derek said thoughtfully.

Garcia shuddered in her chair. "Please don't let it be Hotch." There was no way of knowing what his captor would do to keep him if Hotch was the one he felt he needed.

"Amen to that, baby girl," Derek breathed.

They scrolled through the footage of the quiet times in the enclosure, but they did watch as Hotch attempted to examine the cameras and his interactions with his kidnapper. They noticed right away when Hotch slowed down in his movements and ate less. They noticed him rub at his throat and chest. "Do you think Hotch could be sick?" Reid asked.

"I hope not," Rossi said.

A fit of coughing told them that it was a vain hope, and then Hotch reminded them just why he was so good at what he did when he took advantage of the unsub's distraction when he had a coughing fit. One moment, he was sitting on the couch coughing and the next he was fighting back. A second later he was out of the enclosure and heading for the nearest door and then a window, but then the unsub tackled him. "We should look for football players," Penelope said.

"Definitely," JJ said, watching the footage thoughtfully. "That was a perfect tackle. Someone in the NFL couldn't have done better."

They watched while the unsub entered the enclosure with a black doctor's bag and proceeded to give Hotch a medical exam, using a stethoscope to listen to his heart and chest.

"Well, that fits the profile," Morgan said, watching the footage. "One of the possibilities was 'doctor' or someone in the medical field."

"Wonder what else we got right?" Reid said, not looking away from the screen.

They watched as the unsub waited on Hotch hand and foot during his illness. He arranged the television in the bedroom for Hotch and provided him with books and tissues. Then he proceeded to bring cool drinks and meals on trays to Hotch several times a day. Hotch stayed in bed for the most part, leaving it only to wash and change clothes while the unsub replaced the bed linens every other day. Often the unsub would sit in the enclosure with Hotch and read to him, or sometimes they would just chat. Quickly they were up to speed with what was going on with Hotch-none of them had ever felt so close yet so far away from their boss. They knew him well enough to know what he was feeling, even when his expression didn't change, but they all had to admit it to themselves.

Hotch was afraid. Sometimes it was in the tilt of his head, in the quirk of his lips, the way he blinked, but they were all subtle signs that let them know he wasn't all right. None of them wanted to admit to themselves just how frightening that was.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Hey, all! Thanks so much for reading and your reviews and messages. They make my day! You guys are awesome. Thanks so much!

Chapter 6

Morgan sniffed in misery and sighed, the pressure in his head reminding him yet again that there would be no mercy. Whoever had brought the cold into Pacerton PD would be found out and he would answer for the awful crime of being an evil little germ-spreader. The cold had made its way through the ranks of the police and then had descended upon the unsuspecting BAU team. All of them had it and all of them were miserable.

A cough from Reid made Morgan look up. He was worried about his friend. The cold had settled into Reid's chest almost right away and he'd been doing nothing but cough for the last two days. Sometimes his face would turn red from coughing, but Reid had refused any chance to rest. All he'd done about his cough was put on a medical mask and soldier on.

Officer Thomas had been a godsend the whole time. He kept them supplied with a plethora of hot drinks and soups and crackers and bread to eat, as well as soft sweets that could be eaten without hurting their sore throats. It was pretty nice to be catered to like that.

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, Officer Thomas appeared in the doorway. "How are you guys doing? Would you like me to get anything for you?"

"We're still miserable, and some more of that fruit juice you mixed up earlier would be great," Rossi croaked. "Best stuff I ever tasted."

"Tea for me," JJ sniffled, looking up from the file she was holding. "Or hot chocolate. Something hot."

"I think I can manage that. Any requests for lunch?"

"You've missed your calling," Rossi said. "You should be in the hospitality industry or running a catering company."

"I've heard that before," Officer Thomas said. "How about I surprise you?"

"We can always do with a good surprise," Reid rasped, getting up from his chair. "I'm gonna go check on Hotch."

Reid had been doing that several times a day since Penelope had found the live feed. They could tell that Hotch was recovering well from his illness and that his captor was still fussing over him. The most interesting thing to take place over the past few days was Hotch and his captor sharing that meal together and a chess game.

Reid could remember how determined Hotch had been to find him when Tobias Hankel had taken him. He'd kept moving forward, no matter what, and he wanted to show that same determination in his search for Hotch. Hotch deserved nothing less.

* * *

Officer Thomas had to give the BAU credit; they were the most dedicated team he'd seen in all his years working in law enforcement. They drove themselves in a manner that bordered the fanatic, and they were still the most empathetic and sincere team he'd ever witnessed in action. They weren't just trying to figure out where the unsub had taken Hotch or why, but they were trying to understand the man's motivations and feelings, as well. They were learning how to think like him, and while Officer Thomas had often tried to put himself into the shoes of a perp before, these guys took it to the next level.

The thing that impressed the heck out of him was the fact that sick as they were, they were showing no signs of slowing down. If anything, they drove themselves harder and with more determination. Officer Thomas actually found himself feeling a little sorry for the unsub when they managed to catch up to him. He would be shown precious little mercy.

Derek Morgan, JJ Jareau, Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi all worked in a group most of the time, sharing information with one another and bouncing ideas around, consulting maps and diagrams when needed. It was a pleasure to watch them work, almost like watching a well-oiled machine creating masterpieces.

Penelope Garcia was poetry in motion as she tapped away at her keyboards and watched her monitors. She would type, consult her monitors, type, consult her monitors, and when something important popped up, she would print the information for the team and share it with them, leading to more ideas being tossed back and forth, new theories raised, and new plans and leads followed up.

The most surprising team member was Spencer Reid. He was a skinny, lanky, and somewhat awkward individual, but his mind was graceful. It made leaps like a prima ballerina assoluta and drew conclusions like an old master from the Renaissance. He could examine sheets and sheets of information, observe map after map, and come up with new ideas and locations as to how they might find Hotch and where they might find him.

The most reliable source of information they had were the message boards where Hotch's captivity was being discussed. A great many of the comments were disgusting in the extreme, but every now and then there were kernels and nuggets of information as to where the people online thought Hotch was being held. The most promising commenters were those who were from Pacerton and its environs and surrounding areas. A lot of the comments made his blood run cold and a few disgusted him outright, but the team didn't let such things bother them, or if they did, then they didn't show it. Thinking of this, Officer Thomas examined the latest list and thought about what he was seeing.

" _Guy's gotta have a warehouse or an industrial facility to keep this guy in. He's got money, that's for sure."_

" _Must be a place where nobody goes, or else this guy would have been found out by now."_

" _Looks like the old industrial district in Pacerton. I'm 45 minutes from there."_

" _The guy in the ski mask's got it BAD for the guy he's locked up. Anyone else notice how he's always watching him?"_

" _Dang-wish someone would bring me breakfast in bed!"_

" _Yeah, but locked up?"_

" _You have a point. Has he gotten close to getting out?"_

" _Just the once. The guy in the ski mask's been_ _**real**_ _watchful since then."_

That had been true. The few times Officer Thomas had been able to watch the feed, Hotch's captor was always there. He would appear several times an hour, checking on Hotch whether Hotch was reading, watching television, working a crossword puzzle, or even asleep. According to Reid, the unsub was checking on Hotch several times a night while Hotch slept, and even when Hotch was taking a nap.

 _Everyone_ thought it was creepy. Still thoughtful, he joined Reid at the monitor. The agent's knee was bouncing up and down as he stared at the screen. "Any changes?"

Reid shook his head. "No. What's concerning me right now is that this is the third nap Hotch has taken in two days."

"Why is taking a nap concerning?"

Reid glanced up at him and then back at the screen. "Hotch doesn't really nap-not to take a nap, anyway. He'll work out, train for a triathlon, practice soccer with his son, goes over files, writes-he does things. He only sleeps when he's tired. If he dozes off or naps, then he's either sick or tired beyond bearing."

"I see." Officer Thomas watched as Hotch's captor entered Hotch's enclosure and approached his bed. Hotch was curled up, deeply asleep, on top of the comforter. The unsub stood there for a moment and watched Hotch sleeping before turning and picking up a folded blanket from the foot of the bed. He spread it out over Hotch and smoothed Hotch's hair before leaving.

Reid gave a tired sigh. "Yeah, that's still just as creepy as the first time I saw it."

"I agree with you there," Officer Thomas agreed. "Looks kind of like what a parent would do for his kid."

"Makes me wonder just how this guy sees Hotch," Reid said, leaning back in his chair and palming his eyes. Reid looked up at Officer Thomas. "You know, it's just hit me that we've been here for days and I still don't know what your first name is."

Officer Thomas smiled. "My friends call me Al."

"Al," Spencer repeated. "Most people call me Reid, but some call me Spencer. You could pick one."

"I'll try out both to see which one I like better," Officer Thomas joked.

Spencer gave a little smile. He liked this guy. He was helpful, tried his best to keep them from getting discouraged, and saw to it they had what they needed so they could work. If he was ambitious, he might consider trying for the FBI someday. God knew that they could use a whole army of Officer Al Thomases at the BAU.

* * *

Hotch's eyes opened and he stretched, feeling his joints pop. He must have been asleep for far longer than the twenty minutes he'd allotted himself for this nap. The stress of being locked up had become exhausting, so he'd started taking naps. Whenever he became too tired of seeing the same four walls and the fencing and the accommodations Alexander had made for him, Hotch went to sleep. It was an easy way to give his mind a break and it gave his body a little extra rest, which was good since he was tired all the time.

He didn't like being this tired. He knew that kidnapping victims often suffered from fatigue, both during and after their ordeal, and he really didn't like that it was happening to him. Being so tired made it hard for him to think, and he had a uncomfortable sneaking suspicion that Alexander was perfectly happy with that. If he couldn't think, then he couldn't plan an escape.

Hotch had noticed that Alexander was spending more time with him and checking on him more often. Sometimes he would come to the fence several times in an afternoon just to check on him. He always had a pleasant word for Aaron, but the fact that Alexander was stepping up his visits was worrying and Hotch dearly wished he knew why. He contemplated getting up but instead burrowed his head back into the pillow. He'd close his eyes for just a few minutes and then get up.

"Aaron?"

Hotch jack-knifed into a sitting position, heart hammering. "Aah! Alexander!"

"Hello, Aaron. Did you have a good nap?"

For some reason, the question was embarrassing. "I slept fine. Did you need something?"

"Actually, I was checking if you needed anything. Something to drink, perhaps?"

"That would be nice. Could I have some more of that fruit juice that I had at breakfast?"

Alexander nodded. "Of course. I'll be right back."

While Alexander was gone, Hotch got up and folded the blanket before setting it aside. It was odd that there'd been a blanket over him since he didn't remember using one. He only remembered laying down. Deciding to think about it later, Hotch went out into the living area, and a cold glass of juice was sitting on the table, complete with ice and a straw. He took it to the couch and was sitting there sipping on it when Alexander approached the fence. He'd been a benevolent host a few minutes before, but now he was tense and unhappy. "Aaron, there's something you should see. Turn on channel nine."

Confused, Hotch turned on the TV and switched to channel nine. It was a commercial at the moment, so he sat back and sipped his juice. He was mid-sip when the commercial ended and he saw what he was meant to see. It was the news-he was on it. He choked on his present swallow of juice and started coughing, some of the juice burning its way through his sinuses. "What the hell?"

"Looks like someone down at the station talked to the press."

Hotch's next words summed up the situation perfectly. "Oh, God."

There went his career.

* * *

JJ had been in the police chief's office for the past fifteen minutes letting him know exactly how she felt about someone talking to the press and she showed no sign of slowing down. Occasionally the rest of the team could hear phrases such as "...detrimental to our case" and "...may seriously endanger Agent Hotchner's life!" It was a pleasure and a privilege to hear because _none_ of them were happy. Even Penelope was angry about it and was presently in front of her screens muttering under her breath about retribution for the senseless idiot who had talked to a reporter. Officer Thomas, or _Al_ as Reid had started calling him, looked a little intimidated when he heard her snarling about sending a worm that would end all things technological in the Lilliputian-minded doofus's life who had opened his big, fat trap.

"If you wait long enough," Derek Morgan told him that afternoon outside in the hall, "she manages to top herself. The last time someone seriously ticked her off, she sent vacation pictures to someone's boss."

"Was that person fired?" Officer Thomas asked.

"Most likely."

"I'll remember never to tick her off."

"That would be a good thing."

Emily and Rossi were both busy talking to their higher-ups in Quantico about the case and how no, it would not be a good idea to send another team. No, it would be an even worse idea to send more agents to help him. The news broadcast was due to put a lot more pressure on the unsub and increasing their numbers would add even more. The last thing they wanted to do was endanger Hotch.

At last JJ stormed from the police chief's office and to the rest of the team. "Each time I think this case can't get worse, it does."

"Let's hope your words aren't prophetic," Rossi said quietly once he hung up his phone. "We were told we've got another week before they send more people. I tried telling them that it won't be a good idea, but they want this case wrapped up, one way or another."

"Fabulous," Emily muttered. "I got the same answer, no matter who I talked to. I wish I could throw something through their front window."

"You'd probably have to pay for it," Derek reminded her.

"It would be worth it," she said darkly.

"I'm sensing some aggression," Dr. Quill said, stepping into the room. "I saw the news and thought I'd come down. How are all of you doing?"

They all looked at him.

"I see."

"Where's Officer Thomas?"

"Helping elsewhere. Is there anything I can do to help all of you?"

"Find the measly brainless cowpat who talked to the press," Garcia snarled as she marched into the room and headed straight for the coffee pot. "If I ever find out who opened his disproportionate mouth, there will be a reckoning unlike any that has ever been seen before."

Dr. Quill blinked. "Definitely sensing some aggression."

"Aggression would be an understatement," Penelope snapped as she click-clacked in her heels to the door. "Murderous rage is more likely."

Dr. Quill watched her go. "You know, I like the way she expresses herself. It's impressive."

"That's our Penelope," Emily said, smiling. "So, you saw the news?"

Dr. Quill nodded. "I did. I know this doesn't portend well for either you or for Agent Hotchner. I was wondering how you were holding up and how you think he's doing."

"We'll be okay," Rossi said thoughtfully, and then he coughed. "Despite the fact that we all have a cold sent from Hades itself. I'm worried about Hotch, though. He's gonna worry about the impact this is going to have on his career."

"Surely there won't be one?"

"There might not be," JJ said with a sigh, fixing herself a hot drink. "Then again, due to bureau politics, there might be. Some people could use the argument that how good can Hotch be at his job when he ends up being taken by the very unsub we're looking for? Some of us have been in similar situations before, but then, none of us were the leader of the team."

"Yeah, time will tell if someone is going to try using this against Hotch," Derek added. "We might be tilting at windmills, but then, it's something we're all going to have to keep in mind. Anybody seen the tissues?"

"And if Agent Hotchner has seen the news, what do you think he'll be thinking?" Dr. Quill wanted to know as he located the tissues and handed them to Derek.

"I think he'll be worried, but he'll be trying his best not to let it show," Reid stated just as Officer Thomas walked in. "Hey, Al."

"Hey," he said, taking a seat at the table and placing a stack of files on the table in front of him. "I called in a favor down at the city hall and I have some new information for you guys. A lot of the town's records, especially the older ones, haven't been digitized yet, so I got you guys copies. I figured if you review all this, you might find some new leads. I could help, if you like."

They all looked ready to hug the man. Reid snatched at the nearest set of files. "I'll start reading. If I read something out loud, write it down."

Officer Thomas grabbed a legal pad and a pen. "I'm ready."

"Looks like you're off and running," Dr. Quill said, watching them with some amusement as everyone mobbed the files. "I'll make sure I order dinner for you."

No one answered. They were hot on the trail of an unsub.

* * *

"Of all the things you've asked me to do, this is one thing that I'm going to say no to," Aaron said, giving Alexander a _look_. "I'm not comfortable with it."

Alexander returned his look calmly. "I think it would benefit you a great deal, Aaron. With that tension headache you've had, I believe it would help."

"Doesn't matter," Hotch answered, rubbing his right temple. "I don't want to."

Alexander tilted his head to the side and appeared to be thinking. "What if I took off some time?"

Aaron gave a dry laugh and dropped onto the couch. "A day or two won't make much difference. My answer's still going to be no."

He heard Alexander sigh. "Just think about it. I'll be back later."

Hotch stayed on the couch and didn't answer. _He's probably off to destroy someone else's career,_ he thought bleakly. The BAU had been in trouble before due to bureau politics, but this...this might end things altogether. Anyone could argue that Hotch was not competent for his office since he'd been captured by the unsub he'd been pursuing. If some politician was gunning for the BAU, stating that it was a waste of time, then it would only be a matter of time before he or she would try to raze the whole unit. There were plenty of them out there just waiting for a chance to build a name for themselves by cutting corners and saving money. For some reason, the BAU was often a prime target for cuts.

How he loathed and despised politics.

Since watching that news broadcast, he'd had a tension headache to rival any headache he'd ever had. It even hurt to blink. Alexander had watched him rub at his neck and head for about three hours before offering to give him a massage.

Hotch had stared at him in surprise. "A massage?"

"I hold qualifications for massage therapy," Alexander had told him. "I even have a massage table and the supplies we'd need. I believe it would be beneficial for you."

Hotch's answer had been an unequivocal no, but every half hour or so, Alexander had returned to coax him. It was annoying in the extreme, but at least, Hotch reflected, Alexander hadn't drugged him and forced him onto the table. He still had a choice-well, perhaps he had the _illusion_ of a choice. His options were limited while he was locked up. He had a strong feeling that Alexander was going to wear him down until he agreed to it.

Too exhausted to think anymore, he let his thoughts drift to Jack. How was he? He hoped that Jack wasn't too worried about his dad. He knew Jack would be all right with Jessica and, of course, he could count on his team to watch out for his son as well, but...he couldn't help worrying. Jack was still so young.

He remembered the last conversation they'd had and Jack had been hinting steadily that he'd love to go camping sometime soon. Hotch had told him that the weather was not quite warm enough for that, but that they could look into it. Perhaps they could rent a cabin somewhere.

"A cabin's not camping, Dad!" Jack had complained. "You need a tent to go camping, and you cook out over a campfire and you make s'mores, and you go stargazing, and you sing camp songs…"

"Okay, okay, I get the picture," Hotch told him, ruffling his hair. "We can definitely do that. We just have to arrange it, all right?"

Jack had grinned and hugged him. "All right!" He'd scurried away, singing at the top of his lungs. "Oh, what a big, bold man was this desperado, from Cripple Creek way out in COL-ORAHDO, and he horsed around like a big TOR-NAHDO, and everywhere he went he gave his war-hoop!"

That song had been infectious and every now and then since leaving home Hotch had found it running through his head. It was the ultimate ear-worm and even more annoying was the fact that sometimes he would hum it without realizing it. Even as he was sitting there thinking about it, it came back into his head.

Deciding that he would do himself no good by brooding, he found a puzzle book and started working on a cryptogram. He was close to the solution when he heard himself singing the song under his breath.

"My son used to sing that same song. Amazing how some things are universal, isn't it?"

Aaron looked away from his book to where Alexander stood on the other side of the fencing. "Yeah, it is. I heard Jack singing it just before I left, and since then it's been stuck in my head."

"It's the kind of song that sticks with you," Alexander added. He paused and seemed to collect himself. "Two weeks."

This was such a non-sequitur that Aaron was confused. "Sorry?"

"I'll take off two weeks if you'll agree to having a massage."

"Two weeks?" Aaron repeated as his brain started screaming at him to shut up and take the bribe.

"Two weeks."

"How do I know that you'll keep your word?"

Alexander tilted his head and sighed. "Because you've spoken to my other guests, Aaron. I'm far more concerned with your present well-being than keeping you for the whole time."

Aaron nodded. Alexander was right. "I'll agree, but on two conditions."

Alexander's head tilted the other way. "And what are they?"

"The first is that I'm not naked for the massage."

Alexander threw his head back and laughed, one hand holding onto the fencing. It took him a minute or two to get control of himself, but finally he straightened up and took a deep breath. "You weren't going to be naked, Aaron, but I'll grant the condition. The second?"

"You'll give me the next twenty minutes in here alone and you will not watch the monitors during that time, or rewind and review the footage."

Hotch could tell he'd surprised the man. "I see. Might one ask why?"

"You might," Hotch admitted. "That doesn't mean I'll tell you, though. If you want to give me a massage, you'll have to stick to those two conditions."

Aaron could tell that he was thinking about it. Finally, Alexander nodded. "All right. You can have your twenty minutes. I promise I won't pry, and then I'll give you your massage and your two weeks. Agreed?"

Hotch nodded. "Agreed."

* * *

A scream from Garcia had them all running full tilt down the hallway and thundering into Garcia's workstation.

"Baby Girl!"

"Garcia, what is it?"

"What happened?"

"Is Hotch okay?!"

Wordlessly, Garcia pointed at her monitor. "It's Hotch! He's talking to me!"

"WHAT?"

They all crowded around the monitor and saw an image of Hotch, facing the camera and holding up a piece of paper saying, GARCIA.

They watched as Hotch started dropping sheet after sheet.

GARCIA.

KNOWING HOW GOOD YOU ARE AT WHAT YOU DO, I'M SURE YOU HAVE EYES ON ME BY NOW.

I'M OKAY. IF YOU'VE BEEN WATCHING, THEN YOU KNOW HE'S TREATING ME KINDLY.

Hotch's eyes saddened when he got the next sheet.

I'M JUST REALLY WORRIED ABOUT MY SON. NEXT TIME YOU TALK TO HIM, TELL HIM I LOVE HIM AND THAT I'M THINKING ABOUT HIM.

Hotch smiled at the next sheet.

YOU CAN TELL HIM I'M OKAY.

Then came the next sheet.

YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE SOMETHING WEIRD, BUT HE PROMISED TWO WEEKS TAKEN OFF MY TIME IF I GO THROUGH WITH IT.

Everyone held their breath.

I'VE DECIDED TO DO IT-ANYTHING TO GET BACK TO MY SON SOONER.

IF YOU DO SEE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT, PLEASE PROMISE ME YOU'LL FORGET ALL ABOUT IT AND THAT YOU'LL NEVER MENTION IT.

 **EVER**.

I'LL SEE YOU ALL SOON. TAKE CARE.

Hotch gathered the papers together and another view on the screen showed him hiding the papers under the mattress. Then he sat down on the couch and waited. A few minutes later Hotch's captor came to the fence and spoke to him. Hotch nodded and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

"I'm going crazy," Penelope muttered, her voice tight. "What is he making Hotch _do_?"

"If it's anything really bad, at least we'll have evidence." Rossi did not sound happy about that.

It became apparent when Hotch's captor entered the enclosure carrying a folded piece of furniture. He unfolded the furniture and all of them relaxed when they saw it was nothing more than a massage table.

"Hotch was this worried about a massage?" Derek wondered aloud.

"I'd be worried about it," Spencer said, his brow furrowed in thought. "Especially if it was my kidnapper offering one."

"Amen to that," Emily responded.

They watched as Hotch, wrapped in a terry robe, exited the bathroom and with his kidnapper's help, climbed up and settled on the table. His captor positioned Hotch's head and helped Hotch open his robe and fold it back so his back could be worked on. Hotch's kidnapper poured some oil onto his hands, rubbed his hands to warm it, and started rubbing Hotch's back.

"I've studied serial killers, stalkers, kidnappers, and all kinds of criminals, but I have to say that this is the first time I've ever seen a kidnapper do something like this," Rossi said into the quiet that followed. "This guy is a headliner for every abnormal psychology and criminology textbook out there."


End file.
